Stormy Sky
by InvaderProfessorMembrane
Summary: Professor Membrane reflects back on how he saved his children from the woman he married. One-shot.


**Hey guys! This little idea popped into my mind after reading too many horror stories. (By the way, yes I'm still working on Descending. I just had to get this idea down though.) This story is written in Professor Membrane's POV, just to clear up any confusion. This starts really slow but I promise it'll pick up a lot. **

**Trigger warning: gore, death, and child abuse. **

My therapist says it may be therapeutic to write down what's bothering me, so…

It was maybe mid-April when I first saw her.

It disgusts me how clearly I remember this, because honestly I don't _want_ to remember. Unfortunately for me, though, the memory is permanent.

I was in my senior year of college. The year was drawing to a close, and I was preparing to study chemistry to become a chemist. Of course, what I got in the end was even better: I got to contribute to many fields of science. I didn't know that at this time, though. I didn't know because I was a kid, and kids are ignorant to what lies ahead of them.

I was more than ignorant, though. What I did was something that would haunt me for years. It haunts me today, and I'm almost certain it will continue to haunt me to the grave.

I digress.

I was in college, and I was sitting outside to eat lunch. The day was an odd blend of grotesque and beautiful– the previous night's storm had strewn around dead leaves and branches around the campus, and the sky was covered in clouds, making it a bright grey color. Although it was cloudy, it was bright, and the light was oddly calming. It was warm, but not too warm. There was also a breeze that felt refreshing. I suppose now that I think of it, it was more pretty than ugly, but on that day I sort of wanted some sunlight. I took what I was offered, though; the day was decent.

I sat down on a nearby brick ledge. You know, the brick structures that only looked like half a wall. It was still damp from the storm, but I didn't care. I hoisted myself up.

I was about to indulge in my lunch, but something caught my eye. I looked over and noticed a dead squirrel next to me— _how did I miss it? _Normally a dead animal wouldn't spook me, but I had had a very stressful couple of weeks, had a lot on my mind, and wasn't expecting a decomposing carcass near the area where I was eating. I yelped and fell off of the brick structure, my body hitting the cement below with a crack. Luckily I didn't fall too far– only 4 or 5 feet– but it still hurt. I shut my eyes as I made impact.

When I opened them, standing over me was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. She had soft blonde hair, porcelain skin, the most sincere smile I'd ever seen, and grey eyes that reminded me of the clouds in the sky that day– chaotic but calm at the same time, and oh-so comforting.

I know, it sounds sickeningly cliché, but that was genuinely what was going though my mind that day.

Now, revisiting the memory of her face makes me feel nauseated, not awestricken.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her smile growing larger. She reached her hand out, and I took it. She pulled me up, and I couldn't help but stare at her. I just thought she was so beautiful.

"Wow," she said, a playful tone in her voice. "Scared of a dead rodent?"

Of course, I got defensive. "No!" I said. "It just took me off guard is all."

She giggled. "Don't worry, I know. I was just teasing. I'm Rita," she said, extending her hand once more for a handshake.

"Membrane," I muttered back, still recovering from the dead squirrel incident. I shook her hand.

"I've seen you around the school a few times."

"Oh?"

"Yeah! I hear you want to become a chemist." She then told me she was studying to become some scientist as well. I don't remember what field of science she wanted to go into, but I don't care. The less I can remember about her, the better.

I was only half-listening to her, anyways. God, she was chatty. I'm a good pretend-listener, though, so I think she thought I was interested.

"Enough about me," she said. "I want to hear about you!"

I'm telling you, there wasn't one thing about that woman I didn't love at the time. As soon as she spoke, I discovered the silkiness of her voice. She had me completely mesmerized to the point of being speechless.

I shrugged. "I'm going into chemistry as you know, uh… I don't live near here… I've loved science all my life…" I shrugged. "I'm not very interesting, I suppose."

"Yes you are!" she said, nudging me. I rolled my eyes, insisting that I wasn't.

That didn't stop her from visiting me every day. I didn't care. In fact, I loved it. She was pretty much my only friend at that time. I got along with the others, but the few friends I had met in college I would grow apart from within a month. Months went by and I never grew apart from Rita.

Eventually we started dating, of course. We loved each other so much… I never really got along with my parents too well, so she was the first person I had ever loved. She was someone I could completely trust. She was someone I could go on long walks with. She was someone who I could lie with on a clear night, and together we would look at the millions of stars scattered across the sky.

I loved her so much.

As soon as I finished school and became the chemist I'd always wanted to be (Rita dropped out, by the way), we got married. Only a short three years later, she gave birth to our first son, Dib.

He was absolutely perfect. He had my dark hair, and the combination of my dark eyes and Rita's grey ones have him these caramel-colored ones.

Time passed, and Rita gave birth to twins. We named one Gaz and one Kez. They both had Rita's blonde hair, and their eyes were the same color as Dib's.

Soon, though, as the months passed, the temperature became frigid and a change came across my wife. Her usual natural joy vanished and she became cold. Her eyes, which once reminded me of the warm clear sky in April, now reminded me of the sky just before a violent storm. She didn't smile much anymore, and whenever she did, it was forced and looked like it didn't belong. Her skin seemed to take on a sort of grey tinge, and her voice now reminded me more of sandpaper than silk.

Since she didn't work, she would stay home and watch the kids while I worked. In the meantime, I was becoming more successful.

I returned home one night to see Gaz and Kez with their hair dyed– Gaz's was dark purple, and Kez's was dark blue. I chuckled a bit, looking over at my wife.

"Are you sure putting hair dye on them when they're this young is a good idea?" I asked.

"Oh, Membrane," she said, flashing one of her new smiles (the ones that looked as if they didn't belong there). "Of course I'm sure."

I stared at her, but shrugged. I had to get more work done anyway. My son, who was three at the time, followed me to the basement, which at the time was a makeshift office instead of a lab.

"Dad," Dib said, tugging at my coat. At that time, I wore a dark trench coat instead of a lab coat.

"Yes, Son?"

"Uhh… I don't really think Mommy likes me very much."

Now, this was certainly strange. "What do you mean, Son? She loves you, and so do I."

"Well, I know _you_ do. I just don't think _Mommy_ does."

"Why?"

Just before Dib was about to answer, Rita ran down into the basement. I mean, that woman practically THREW herself down the stairs trying to get to Dib.

"Hey, Dib," she said in a chipper voice that sounded artificial. "I made you dinner!"

"Uhh… okay," Dib answered in a small voice. "Can Dad join us?"

Rita's fake smile widened. "Daddy's very busy," she said. "Let him work!"

Before Dib could reply, she scooped up my son and carried him upstairs. Huh. That was weird. What did he mean by Rita not liking him? I didn't think much of it, though. Three-year-olds often spoke nonsense.

That night, though, as I was settling in bed, I turned to Rita.

"So… Dib said something weird tonight," I said, fidgeting a bit.

Rita turned to me. I could've sworn I saw a glint of nervousness in her stormy eyes. "What did he say?"

"He said he didn't think you liked him."

She laughed. "I don't know where he got that from. I love him!" Again, could've sworn her voice was nervous. At the same time, it sounded slightly angry.

I nodded, agreeing. "That's what I told him. He has an imagination, doesn't he?"

Rita smiled, and man, out of all the fake smiles she flashed towards me this one was the strangest. "Yep. Don't worry about it, Membrane. Just sleep. You've had a long day."

I nodded. It didn't take much to get me to fall asleep. Work always wore me out.

A year passed, and everything seemed normal… except for one small thing. Rita's demeanor kept changing. She seemed to be getting angrier and angrier, it seemed. Now, she hardly _ever_ smiled; she wouldn't even fake-smile. It was scaring me a bit, but whenever I tried to talk to her, she would insist everything was alright and nothing was going on.

One night, I was down in the basement, typing up a conclusion for an experiment we'd recently done. I was growing more and more respected and successful, but with that came even more work.

Anyway, I was in the middle of the paper when Dib came down, just like he did a year ago. "Dad," he said, biting his lip.

"Yes, Son?"

I swear that poor boy was sweating. "I… don't think you should go to work so much anymore."

I laughed. Everyone in the house knew that I couldn't just take a day off. I was extremely busy, especially at the moment.

"Son, you know I can't do that. Why the sudden desire for me to stay home more?"

The poor four-year-old but his lip. "B-Because… I think Mom loves me a bit more when you're home."

I froze. "I'm going to go have a word with your mother. Stay here."

I jumped out of the chair, marching upstairs. "Rita, I need to talk to you in our room," I said angrily. Really, I was tired of this. Where was the woman I fell in love with so long ago? What had she become?

I could tell she was reluctant, but she followed me up into the master bedroom anyway. I shut the door, locking it.

"What is it, dear?" She said sweetly. I could tell the sweetness wasn't real. She was just waiting to explode.

"Dib says that you love him more when I'm at home," I said, crossing my arms. "Now, I'm not one to make accusations, but what are you doing to our kids?"

Suddenly, and I mean in a half a second, her face turned from sickly sweet to white hot rage. This was the first real emotion I'd seen in her face in a long time.

"You think I'm doing something to our kids?! I'll tell you what I'm doing: I'm raising them because obviously _you_ can't, Membrane!" She took a huge step towards me, and I flinched.

"You pathetic little man," she spat, making me flinch more. "The whole world revolves around you, doesn't it? DOESN'T IT?!"

"Rita, calm down! Where's this even coming from?"

"Ugh!" she snarled. "I'm surprised that a man so smart such as yourself is so blind!" She reached out and slapped me hard across the face.

I genuinely didn't know what I did wrong, but whatever it was it set her off bad. I started spending my time working longer hours at the lab, because whenever I was home she'd do something to pick a fight. One night I returned home to see my son with an ugly black eye.

"She did this, didn't she?" I whispered to him. He nodded, and Rita grabbed me by the hair and punched me in the nose.

The following night is one that I will never, ever, ever forget.

I worked for as long as I could that day. I really didn't want to come home to Rita. I hated her by then. I still do.

I know what happened that night was partially my fault, which is why this part is hard to write out. I'm just hoping that writing this will at least bring _some_ closure.

I came home that night to Rita sitting on the couch. I expected her to unleash fury on me like always, but instead she just sat on the couch with an arrogant smile on her face.

"I never did like them much," she said.

I glared. "Like who?"

"Our kids," she teased, playing with her hair. "I dyed Gaz and Kez's hair because it would be easier to pretend they weren't mine."

I continued to glare at her, but I didn't reply.

"Eventually I had it with those little brats. So… I took matters into my own hands."

I glared harder. "What did you do?"

She smiled. "Go to the bathroom and see."

I ran to the bathroom and threw the door open. Immediately, the smell of blood hit my nose.

I knew without looking what she'd done. I caught flashes of blue hair and broken mirror strewn about. The floor was stained bright red.

I knew.

I knew that I could've prevented Kez's death, but I didn't. I was a terrible father. And now one of my daughters was dead.

Rage filled me, and I shook. Any logical person would've called the police, but I was so angry I couldn't think straight. I knew what I had to do, and it was happening that night.

Composing myself in the best way physically possible in such a situation, I approached my wife.

"You know what?" I lied through my teeth. "I agree with you. We don't need the kids! We can… run away and restart our lives! Who cares about the kids, right?"

"Oh, Membrane," Rita answered, balling up the trench coat over my chest and pulling me close. "I knew you'd succumb eventually. I'm so glad your head is finally clear. Yeah, let's do that. Let's restart our lives."

"Yeah," I said, resisting the urge to shove her away with all my might.

"I know the perfect place," she said, taking my hand in hers and pulling me towards the door.

"Actually," I said, resisting. "I have something to show you first."

I dragged her out of the door and then let go of her hand. I didn't think I could hold the hand that murdered my daughter for much longer.

The night was cold. It was unusually dark. The bright light from the full moon above provided the only light.

We walked through a thick forest for about an hour. She told me her plans for our new life, how we would change our names and move to a new country. How we would have more kids, _better_ kids, whatever that was even supposed to mean.

_In your dreams, Rita. I would never have another child with you for all the money, fame, or power on this planet._

Finally, we reached a small shed in the middle of the forest. It was nothing special, just an ordinary tool shed. I had built it a few years ago, before I met Rita. I hadn't touched it in years, but I knew what was in it, and I could use those things to end my problems.

"Come," I said, motioning inside the shed. My wife followed me inside and I shut the door, trapping us both in almost complete darkness. The only light in the shed was the light of the moon shining through the cracks.

"What's this place?" Rita asked, looking around.

"Just my secret spot," I replied, reaching behind me. I was grateful for the darkness; Rita wouldn't be able to see what I was doing, and if I was quiet, she wouldn't hear it either.

I gently brushed my fingers along the dry, splintery shaft of an old shovel (yes, I had actually supplied the shed with tools). I slid my hand up the old wood and touched the blade. It was a bit rusty, but I figured it would be sturdy enough to do the job I needed done.

"Why here?" Rita asked, a slight accusatory tone in her voice.

"I don't know. I've had it for a while. I like it here," I said. In fact, the shed meant almost nothing to me, but if I told Rita that, she would know something sketchy was up.

"Alright, whatever. I can't wait to start our life over, Membrane."

"Me neither," I lied, removing the shovel from its hook.

"We'll raise them to be good! We won't have a repeat of those brats we had before."

"Yep." My grip on the shovel tightened and I held it close to me.

"Seriously. I hated them so much. I never told you this, but every day while you were at work I would give them a well-deserved beating. I'm surprised that they even survived some of the beatings they–"

_BANG!_ Before I could continue, I slammed the metal shovel against her head. I heard her emit a yelp and then I heard her crumple to the ground.

I breathed hard. The smell of fresh blood was heavy in the air. I turned the other way and got sick.

I had to compose myself. The deed wasn't done yet, after all.

Using the same shovel, I dug a deep, deep hole. I grabbed my wife's body and threw it in the pit.

Except this woman wasn't my wife. She wasn't even a person anymore. This fact comforted me greatly.

I filled the hole with dirt and took off. In total, I was gone for about three hours.

Once I got home, I changed into clothes that weren't covered in dirt and picked the lock of the bathroom that Kez was in. (I'd locked it before I left so Dib or Gaz wouldn't open the door to the bathroom and see their sister's body. Luckily they were both asleep.) I called nine-one-one and told them about my daughter being murdered by my wife. I also told them that she had run away and that I didn't know where her location was. They bought it and set up a search. Of course, she was never found.

I know that killing my own wife was wrong. I know that it was not the correct approach to the situation, and now I have to live with the guilt. The paranoia. The loss of my child. The reoccurring nightmares. Every lie that I tell my therapist that sends a surge of fear through me.

But when I woke up the next morning, I immediately noticed one thing:

The sun was shining brighter than usual.


End file.
